


The Gift of Obedience

by afangirlimagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Ella Enchanted Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Ella Enchanted AU, M/M, tbh not quite sure what the fusion at the end of that means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afangirlimagines/pseuds/afangirlimagines
Summary: According to his mother, his fairy godmother said he may be able to break the curse himself. But nobody seemed to have a clue as to what he could do. So all he did was resist every day, hoping that maybe his ability to resist would get strong enough that he could say “No” and that would be that.Keith is given the "gift" of obedience at birth, forcing him to follow any command given to him. Leading up to and following his fifteenth birthday, he continues to fight this curse among a background of caring princes, a wicked step family, ogres, boarding school, and one foolish fairy who put him in this situation in the first place.This is an Ella Enchanted AU for Klance: Keith as Ella of Frell and Lance as Prince Char. It's not necessary for you to have read Ella Enchanted in order to read this fic, though I do highly recommend the original book by Gail Carson Levine!**This story has been discontinued.**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So one thing I would like to note about this book is that it is heavily based in the text of the book, so lines throughout chapters may be more directly quoted, especially if I think they're strong lines. (Why mess with perfection right? Levine truly is a genius.). I do hope you enjoy the story though, and please let me know what you think!

“My gift is obedience. Keith will always be obedient. Now stop crying, child.”

Keith stopped.

Lucinda simply would not understand the severity of this ‘present,’ and no matter how much Keith’s mother begged, Lucinda refused to lift the spell. And since she was the only one with the power to do so, Keith was a puppet to anyone’s commands.

Keith was smart. He learned how to delay his obedience as he grew older, but the nausea, dizziness, headaches, and every other symptom that came with this rebelliousness made it impossible to last more than a minute. But his stubborn attitude lead to him trying every time regardless.

According to his mother, his fairy godmother said he may be able to break the curse himself. But nobody seemed to have a clue as to what he could do. He didn't even know who his fairy godmother was. So all he did was resist every day, hoping that maybe his ability to resist would get strong enough that he could say “No” and that would be that. 

~

When Keith was almost fifteen, he and his mother fell ill with a cold. Their cook at the time, a boy named Hunk only a few years his elder, created some kind of curing broth. And while it was delicious, the sight of unicorn tail hairs floating amongst the carrots and celery was sickening.

Keith was forced to drink the whole bowl, hairs and all, under Hunk’s watchful gaze, his mother as a bit more sly, sneaking out the hairs. It amused Keith at the time, knowing he and his mother shared the same mischievous spirit, he couldn’t help but wish she had just drank them like he had to. The next day, she was too sick to drink or eat. Keith resented the fact he was feeling better, as he was now forced to wait outside her door instead of in the bed beside her.

The days passed, and she showed no signs of improvement. The doctors sent Keith out of the house to stop his fretting, claiming it could be dangerous if his nervous energy remained within the house. With his father further ushering him to go, he decided to take a walk to the old castle.

The mice were the only constant residents left in this old building, despite the fact it was not in a state of decay. People visited plenty though, just to see the candle trees which grew in the garden. The grove was said to have powers.

Keith went straight to the candle tree grove. It was filled with small trees, only a foot or two taller than Keith, yet perfectly pruned, despite having been left untended.  The white petals shone brightly, almost as a light source came from within them.

Keith closed his eyes and held his breath. For wishes, you must give something in return. He whispered to the trees, praying that they would somehow listen.

“If Mother gets well quick, I’ll be good, not just obedient. I’ll try harder. I’ll be better.”

He didn’t bargain for his mother’s life, because he didn’t believe she was in danger of dying.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Read:  
> I've decided that I am not going to continue this story. While I still love the idea of it, and love the fun parallels that could be drawn between Ella & Keith in this AU, I'm afraid the story just hasn't really felt like me as I've been writing it. I felt a need to stay close to the source text, and as a result, lost my own voice in the process.  
> While I'm happy to post the rest of the story that I have, I'm afraid it will not be continued at this time. Maybe in the future, I will come back to it with more clarity of how I can make the story mine, but until then, I will simply just leave the rest of what I had written here.   
> Finally, if anyone else would like to try their hand at this idea, I would absolutely love to read it. I still like the idea behind this universe, and would love to see it come to fruition, though I realize that I may not be the best writer for this task.  
> Thank you all for your interest in this story and your encouragement. I hope you all enjoy this final chapter.
> 
> \- afangirlimagines

His mother’s casket was made of a gleaming mahogany carved with designs of fairies and elves. “If only the fairies could leap out of the wood and cast a spell to bring her back to life,” Keith thought. “Or maybe my fairy godmother would do it, if I knew where to find her.” Keith felt bitter about thoughts of his fairy godmother. What fairy godmother stands quietly by as the one he loves most is taken from him? As far as Keith was concerned, having a fairy godmother was useless.

Keith suddenly feels a small, but forceful push from behind him. He realizes what this means. It’s time for him to close the casket. So that his mother can be lowered into the ground. And stay forever. He swallows his tears and holds his breath as he takes the last few steps towards the coffin.

His mother’s face was stern and empty, the opposite of how she was as a person. It was awful. She looked like her title, like Lady Eleanor, as opposed to his mother. Keith reached out his hands to close the casket, to hide this image of his mother from the world. The casket sounded with a soft click.

Keith felt himself suffocating, choking, dying. His mother was packed, sealed away in a box with a small click. And that was that. It was over. Her whole life simply wrapped up with a soft click. Keith could practically see the script ‘The End’ at the end of his mother’s life book. After only a few tens of pages. It was wrong. But it was over. And the tears Keith had swallowed away all day finally erupted.

Keith’s father came forward and pushed his face into his chest. It was constricting Keith, but it must have seemed to the court to be an act of comfort. His father was too good at tricking people. Keith wondered many times before if his father arranged the marriage to his mother. She was too good and he was too bad. But his mother never seemed unhappy with the circumstances; whenever Keith was around, she had always had a smile on her face.

But now, Keith would never be able to ask his mother about it. About relationships. Trust. Happiness. Love. About anything.

In a sharp whisper, Keith’s father ordered, “Get away from here. Come back when you can be quiet.” Keith’s thoughts were halted by this unexpected command. His father let go, and for once, Keith was more than happy to obey, immediately taking off running. And even as he tripped, he got up just as quickly as he could and kept running, almost glad to feel the stinging in his hand and knee.

The biggest tree in the graveyard was a weeping willow. It more than fit the occasion. Keith collapsed down near its fallen leaves as his sobs wracked his body.

He didn’t ‘lose’ his mother. She wasn’t lost. That implied that he could find her again. But she was simply gone. He would never laugh with her again. Or play pranks with her again. Or slide down the banister with her again.

Keith cried himself out, and by the time he could cry no more, he could feel the curse beginning to tug back at him. His father ordered him to come back. He slowly picked his head up.

Outside the privacy of the tree, Prince Lancelot stood, reading a tombstone. Keith had never been so near him before. “Had he heard me cry?” Keith wondered. Keith’s nerves were too sensitive to think through how he may feel if that was the case. He was exhausted of emotions. Keith watched the prince from where he sat, ignoring the nagging pull of his curse for a few moments.

The prince was only two years older than Keith, but appeared centuries older. He was slightly taller, and stood just like his father, feet apart, hands behind his back, as though the whole country were passing by on review. He looked like his father, with the same tawny curls and swarthy skin, though the angles were softer on his face than King Jerrold’s. Keith had never been near enough to the king to know whether he also had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose.

“Cousin of mine,” the prince said, gesturing to the tombstone. “Never liked him. I liked your mother.” He started walking back towards her tomb.

Keith worried about what the prince was expecting of him. Was he to follow? Was he supposed to maintain a certain distance from his royal self? With enough room for a carriage to pass between them, Keith finally decided to walk at his side. The curse was too strong to ignore now anyway. The prince moved closer. Keith noticed that he, too, had dried tears upon his cheeks, and slightly swollen eyes. Although, unlike Keith, he had stayed upright and failed to make a scene in his sadness.

Keith was still to unsure of the situation to say anything. His own father hadn’t even cried for his mother, and yet the prince had?

“You can call me Lance,” he said suddenly. “Everyone else does. My father does, too.”

Keith looked at him, before quickly turning his head to look down. What granted him this right?

“Thank you,” Keith said, trying to stand straight and speak formally.

“Thank you, _Lance_ ,” he corrected, offering a lighthearted smile. “Your mother used to make me laugh. Once, at a banquet, Chancellor Coran was making a speech. While he talked, your mother moved her napkin around. I saw it before your father crumpled it up. She had arranged the edge in the shape of the chancellor’s profile. It looked exactly like him, had he been the color of the blue napkin. I had to leave without dinner so I could go outside and laugh.”

The pair had made it halfway back, and as Keith began to feel raindrops falling upon his shoulders, he noticed that most of the congregation had dissipated. But his father was waiting in the distance, by his mother’s grave.

“Where did everyone go?”

“They all left before I came to find you. Did you want them to wait?” Lance sounded worried, as if, perhaps, he should have made them stay.

“No, I didn’t want any of them to wait,” Keith replied. Including his father, Keith added mentally. The carriage ride back home would be uncomfortable at best.  

“I know all about you,” Lance said, after a few more steps.

“You do? How could you?”

“Your cook and our cook meet at the market. She talks about you.” He looked sideways toward Keith. “Do you know much about me?”

“No. What do you know?”

“I know you can imitate people just as Lady Eleanor could. You make up your own fairy tales and you’re quite clumsy. I know you once broke a whole set of dishes.”

“I slipped on ice!”

“Ice chips which you spilled.” Lance laughed. It wasn’t a ridiculing laugh, but rather a happy laugh at a good joke.

“An accident!” Keith protested, though a smile began to spread upon his face, trembling slightly, after so much crying.

The pair reached Keith’s father, who exchanged bows and formalities with the Prince, before climbing into the carriage. “Come, Keith.”

Lance offered Keith a hand as he entered the carriage. Keith was unsure if he should give him his hand, or let himself be pushed up at the elbow, which led to Lance’s hand landing in the middle of his arm, and Keith having to hold onto the carriage for balance. And when the door closed, his pant leg got caught, leading to a loud ripping sound. His father winced. Lance was laughing again, smiling at Keith through the window.

Keith winced, and forced himself to try not to cry. This was his mother’s favorite outfit. It was an outrageous green, but his mother said it helped to bring out his eyes, but Keith just felt like a spiky grasshopper. But his mother hated black clothing, and it frustrated his father to no end that he wore this outfit today. Keith had never been more willing to put it on. But now his mother’s favorite outfit was tattered. Keith wanted to kick himself.

Keith shifted himself as far from his father as he could in the carriage.

“A fine affair. All of Frell came, everyone who counts anyway,” he said, as thought they had been leaving a ball.

“It wasn’t fine. It was awful,” Keith said. How could his mother’s funeral be fine?

“The prince was friendly to you.”

“He liked Mother.”

“Your mother was beautiful.” His voice was regretful. “I’m sorry she’s dead.”

The carriage began to move.

 

~

 

“Hunk, I hate fairies. I hate fairy godmothers. I detest it all.”

“Be careful with your words, Keith. And dry the dishes.”

“There’s no reason to be careful. I want my fairy godmother to know. I don’t need a fairy godmother. She’s useless either way.” Keith continued to complain, but did follow Hunk’s command and began to wipe the dishes Hunk was handing him.

“And pray tell, why do you believe this?”

“She should have saved mother.”

“Your mother said the same thing when her father passed away.”

“What do you mean?”

Hunk simply hummed and continue to wash the dishes. But Keith was undeterred from getting the answers he wanted.

“Did Mother tell you who my fairy godmother is?”

“No.”

“Did you know anyway? Without her telling you, that is.”

“If your Mother wanted you to know, she would have told you.”

“She was going to. She promised. Please tell me, Hunk.”

“I am.”

“You are _not_ telling. Who is it?”

“Me. Your fairy godmother is me. Here, taste the carrot soup. It’s for dinner. How is it?”

Before Keith could process the spell affecting him, his mouth was open and the soup was going down his throat. It was absolutely delicious, with every ingredient perfectly cooked and flavored. Keith’s mouth dropped open. Fairy soup. Hunk was a fairy!

But…

“You’re not a fairy.”

“Why not?”

“If you were, you would have saved her,” Keith accused.

“Oh, sweetie, I would have if I could. The curing soup was supposed to work, but I hadn’t realized she removed the unicorn hairs until she was too ill. We can’t stop dying.”

Keith collapsed onto the stool near the stove. He couldn’t hold himself up. The way Hunk had said it, the sad, almost pitiful tone in his voice, broke something within Keith that he hadn’t realized was on the verge of snapping. He couldn’t stop crying, despite the fact he was certain there were no tears left.

Hunk had his hand on his back, rubbing slowly. A drop fell on Keith’s hand. Hunk was crying too. His face was red and blotchy. After a while, when Keith’s body was no longer shaking with tears, Hunk spoke softly.

“I was her fairy godmother too, and your grandmother’s.”

“Did Mother know?”

Hunk nodded. “All the Eleanor line are Friends of the Faires. You have fairy blood in you.”

“Are there many friends of the fairies? Can I do magic? Shall I live forever?” Keith hesitated, looking up at Hunk. “Would Mother have, if she hadn’t gotten sick?” Keith’s lip quivered slightly.

“You’re the only one in Kyrria. And no, it’s only a drop of fairy blood. But you have fairy feet, like your mother. We’re too tall for our feet. Yours will likely not grow anymore.”

Keith sat in silence for a moment, taking in everything that had just been said. He had fairy blood in him? Hunk, who looked barely two years older than him was an immortal fairy? Hunk? His fairy godmother?

Hunk couldn’t have been a fairy. He wasn’t a woman even, yet he was claiming to be his fairy godmother. Fairies were supposed to be thin and embody grace. Hunk was a frazzled young boy and larger than a twig-thick fairy.

“Show me you’re a fairy. Stop the rain,” Keith demanded.

Hunk’s attention shifted away from Keith, back to the pot resting upon the stove. “I don’t have to show you anything. And Lucinda is the only fool stupid and rude enough to do such a thing.”

“Why?”

“We don’t do big magic. It’s too dangerous.”

“What’s so dangerous about ending a storm?”

“Use your imagination.”

“The crops need rain.”

“More,” Hunk replied, simply.

“Maybe a bandit was going to rob someone, and he isn’t doing it because of the weather.”

“Or a hundred other things. Maybe I’d start a drought. Then when I try to fix that, maybe I’ll cause a flood, or knock down a branch which may smash in someone’s roof. I stick to little magic. Cooking, my curing soup, my Tonic.”

“Was Lucinda’s spell big magic?”

“Of course, the numskull!” Hunk dropped his stirring spoon into the pot, where it clattered and banged against the metal, and caused some soup to splash back onto himself.

“Tell me how to break the spell. Please, Hunk.”

“I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

“If I told Lucinda how terrible it is, would she lift the spell, do you think?”

“I doubt it, by maybe. Then again, she might give you another spell even worse. The trouble with Lucinda is, ideas pop into her head and come out as spells.”

“Where does she live?”

“We are not on speaking terms. I don’t keep track of her whereabouts. And you’d better hope you never lay eyes on her, Keith.”

 

~

 

Keith, against all of his wishes, was forced to have dinner with his father the next night.

“I shall be leaving in some time. One of Agulen’s students made this wonderful trinket, and if I play my words right, I can pass this off as a genuine Agulen.” As his father passed the trinket to him, Keith had resolved his mind to drop it, just since his father liked it so much. But when he saw it, he suddenly couldn’t.

It held a porcelain castle with six tiny towards, each ending in a minature candle holder. String between a window in each of the two towers was a gossamer thread of china from which hung laundry! All thing as a spider’s web. And painted in a window downstairs, a smiling maiden waved a silken scarf.

“Close your eyes.”

Keith heard him pull the heavy drapes shut as he watched through slitting eyes, despite the curse causing a migraine. He didn’t trust him. His father took the castle and placed it on the mantel, put in candles, and lit them.

“Open your eyes.”

The castle was a sparkling wonderland. The flames drew pearly tints out of the white walls, and the windows glowed yellow-gold, suggesting cheerful fires within.

“You’re going to sell it!” Keith asked, incredulous,

“I’m a merchant, Keith. I sell things. Now you know who I am: Sir Peter, the merchant. But who are you?”

“A son who used to have a mother.”

He dismissed Keith’s comment with a simple wave. “But who is Keith?”

“A man who doesn’t wish to be interrogated.”

“You have the courage to speak to me so.” Sir Peter looked him over. “That’s my chin.” He touched it, and Keith recoiled. “Strong. Determined. That’s my nose. I hope you don’t mind that the nostrils flare. My eyes, except yours are green. Most of your face belongs to me.

“What shall I do with you?”

“Why must you do something with me?”

“I can’t leave you to grow up a cook’s helper. You must be educated. What did you think of Dame Olga’s daughters?”

Keith had met the two during the wake earlier. Hattie and Olive. A giant couldn’t have eaten half a leg of deer plus a huge mound of wild rice and eight of the fifty quail eggs and go back for dessert. But Hattie could. Not to mention they had spent most of their time “comforting” Keith by discussing the wealth of his father, and their own family. In all, they had felt Keith filled with disgust and bile in his throat.

“They were not comforting.” When his father began to laugh, Keith felt angry. He disliked being laughed at. “They meant well, I suppose,” Keith revised.

“They didn’t mean well. The older one is an unpleasant conniver and the younger is a simpleton.” He became thoughtful, his voice directed more towards himself. “Dame Olga is titled and rich.”

Keith wondered what that had to do with anything.

“Perhaps I should send you to boarding school with her daughters.”

Boarding school! Keith would have to leave Hunk. He’d be told what to do all the time. He’d be punished, and when he would punish them back, he’d be punished more.

“Why can’t I stay here?”

“It would be less expensive to send you to boarding school than to have someone come here to teach you. And I haven’t the time to interview anybody. In two days, you shall go to boarding school with Dame Olga’s daughters.”

“I won’t.”

“You shall do as I say, Keith. Do you understand?”

Angry, Sir Peter reminded him of a carnival toy, a leather fist attached to a coiled spring used in puppet shows. When the spring was release, the fist shot out at a hapless puppet. With his father, it wasn’t the fist that frightened Keith; it was the spring, because the spring determined the force of the blow. The anger in his father’s eyes was so tightly coiled that Keith didn’t know what would happen if his spring were tripped.

Keith hated being frightened. But he was. “I’ll go to boarding school. But I shall loathe it.” The taste of obedience without an order was no better than Lucinda’s induced version.

Keith left dinner and, despite that it was only early evening, changed into his night clothes and climbed into bed. Keith waited for sleep, but instead tears came.

“Sweetie.” The door opened. It was Hunk with Tonic and a box.

“No tonic, Hunk. I’m fine.”

He put down the tonic and rubbed Keith’s back.

“I don’t want to go,” Keith mumbled into his pillow.

“I know.” Hunk sat at the side of Keith’s bed until he was still and almost asleep. Then he shifted slightly, picking up the tonic from the floor. “Tonic time.”

“I’ll skip tonight.”

“No, you won’t. Not tonight, especially. I won’t have you getting sick when you need your strength.” A spoon came out of his apron. “No less than three spoons.”

The tonic tasted nutty, and honestly quite good, but it felt slimy, like a thick goo. Each spoonful felt as if it was oozing down Keith’s throat. But it did somehow make Keith feel better, even if only a little.

“Why did Mother marry him?” Maybe Hunk could answer the question which plagued Keith.

“Until she was his wife, Sir Peter was very sweet to Lady. I didn’t trust him, but she wouldn’t listen to me. Her family didn’t approve because he was poor, which made Lady want him even more, she was that kind-hearted.” Hunk stopped for a moment, before saying, “Keith, please try to keep him from learning about the spell on you. He likes to have his way too much. He’d use you.”

“Mother ordered me not to tell about the curse. But I wouldn’t anyway.”

“What do you think school will be like, do you think?” Keith asked after a moment.

“Hmm, some of the students will be sweet. Don’t you want your present?”

Keith had forgotten about the box Hunk had brought in with him. Keith sat up as Hunk handed him the box. “For you, wherever you go your whole life.”

Inside the box was a book of fairy tales. The illustrations were beautiful- Keith had never seen anything like it. The pages were almost alive.

“When you look at it, you can remember me and take comfort.”

“I’ll save it until I leave, so the stories will be new.”

Hunk simply chuckled as he drew something else from his pocket. “From Lady. She would have wanted you to have it.”

It was his mother’s necklace. It was a thin chain of silver, which seemed to perfectly glitter in the light, studded with tiny pearls.

“You’d be wise to keep it under your doublet when you go out. Gnomes made it.”

Keith felt the chain, eyes locked onto it, for another moment, before putting it on his neck and tucking it under his shirt. “I’ll wear it always.”

 

~

 

The next morning, Keith woke up with his fingers curled around his mother’s necklace, to King Jerrold’s palace clock just striking six. Perfect. He wanted to rise early to say goodbye to all the places he loved best.

After Hunk made him sit down in order to eat a breakfast, and Keith stole two warm scones to take with him, he was off to the royal menagerie just outside the walls of the king’s palace.

He walked by the baby dragon in his cage, watching his ruby eyes with their evil glint. “What does King Jerrold have planned for it when it grows up? Will I be home to find out its fate?” Keith wondered idly.

Beyond the dragon, a centaur stood near a moat. Keith walked towards him quietly, wondering if he would like a scone.

“Here,” a voice said.

Keith turned. It was Prince Lancelot, offering Keith an apple.

“Thank you.”

Keith edged closer to the moat, holding his hand out. The centaur’s nostrils flared, and he trotted towards him. Keith tossed the apple and his centaur caught the treat, crunching loudly.

“I always expect them to thank me, or to say, ‘How dare you stare?’”

“They’re not smart enough to talk. See how blank their eyes are.”

Keith knew this, but perhaps it was Lancelot’s princely duty to explain matters to one’s subjects.

“If they had words, they wouldn’t be able to think of anything to say.”

A surprised silence followed. Then Lance laughed. “That’s funny! You’re funny. As the Lady Eleanor was.” He looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

“I think of her often,” Keith said. Most of the time, if he was honest.

We walked along the edge of the moat.

“Would you like an apple too?” He held out another.

Keith wanted to make him laugh again. He pawed at the ground, and opened his eyes as wide as they’d go, staring stupidly at Lance, before taking the apple.

He did laugh. “I like you. I’m quite taken with you.”

Keith liked him too.

They finally came upon the parrot cages. This was Keith’s other favorite place. The birds spoke all the languages of the earth. He loved to imitate them, even if he didn’t know what they were saying.

Simon, their keeper, was a friend of Keith’s. When he saw Lance, he bowed low.

“This one’s new,” he said. “Speaks Gnomic and doesn’t shut up.”

The parrot spoke and Keith repeated the sounds back.

“You speak Gnomic!” Lance said.

“I like to make the sounds. I only know what a few words mean.”

“She does it just right, doesn’t she, your Highness?”

Lance tried to begin to repeat the phrase. “Fawithkor evtuk brizzay…” He gave up. “It sounded better when you did it.”

Keith took the time to say goodbye to each bird, switching between Gnomic, Ogrese, Abdegi (the language of the giants), and even Elfian. He finally called towards Simon to say goodbye, as he helped some other guests.


End file.
